The Change of Seasons

You can see it in the afternoon light. There’s a mellow, golden hue to the sunshine by four o’ clock as if the light is ripening somehow, like the tomatoes changing from green to orange to red out in the garden.

Sunday night Elv made potato chips from new garden potatoes. Sliced thin and deep fried, then salted with sea salt, they are easily the best we’ve ever tasted. I love Elv’s serve when he’s cooking for the family or guests. Lisl says her husband is her favorite preacher. Mine is my favorite cook. We sat around the evening campfire till ten thirty. Jackets and coffee and talk.

The ordinary talk was wonderful. Because it was about the daffodils as opposed to hard things. How about a break … Wouldn’t that be great? How about one week where nobody misunderstands. Where nobody sins, not even once. No brain tumors, no accidents, no nasty head colds, no messy family situations, no tears, no fears. Sigh.

I suppose it feels big because I said, and not blithely … Not at all, “It’s on Plan.” But if I unsay it, so to speak, that doesn’t work either. My best courage comes from trusting that all that happens to us as Christians is on plan.

Elv and I seem to be headed into the next season ourselves, at least I hope so, because this season of our lives has not been easy. No details. But we are praying for some golden light on things. Jesus said, Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill can’t be hidden. ( So much for crawling under my rock. ) He also said of himself, “I am the light of the world. Anybody following me won’t walk in darkness, but will live in the light.”